HermioneFred Fluffy Ficlets
by LadyDisdain2014
Summary: Exactly what's on the tin. Fluffy ficlets/drabbles will be posted as they attack me. All or most are unrelated. Anything Post-Hogwarts assumes the events of Fred Weasley and the Sleeping Death occurred. Gen/Teen for now
1. Chocolate Cake

Hermione was leaned up against the counter of Molly Weasley's kitchen in the Burrow, watching through the window as assorted Weasleys and friends played an unusually violent game of Quidditch in the yard. Her fork was poised above a slice of Molly's decadent chocolate cake, when she sensed a presence behind her. Swiftly, she moved her fork to block the incoming attack.

"Mine, Fred."

"How do you always do that?"

"I take your mother's cake very seriously."

She felt more than heard the sigh behind her. "You know that's not what I meant."

"Tell you apart from George?" Hermione gave her best Gallic shrug, perfected by observing Fleur in action. "How do you tell Ron and George apart?"

"George is missing an ear." Fred replied smartly. Hermione deigned to give him an arch glance and returned applying herself to her cake. "But you don't need a missing ear to tell. Even Mum has trouble sometimes, but you never have."

"I don't know if you've noticed, Fred, but you are actually entirely different people." The swat on the bum he gave her in response was well deserved. "You can't expect a girl to give up all her secrets, can you?"

"One or two might be nice though." Hermione quashed the swarm of butterflies she felt suddenly in her stomach as she felt him step in nearer to her.

Hermione turned and tapped the distinct cluster of freckles on the right side of Fred's jaw. "George's is on the right." She missed seeing his jaw tense as she turned back to the game and her cake and added "You're not identical, you're a mirror."

This time she allowed him to steal his bite of cake.


	2. Yule Ball

" _So...you lot got dates for the ball yet?"_

" _Nope," said Ron._

" _Well you'd better hurry up, mate, or all the good ones will be gone," said Fred._

" _Who're you going with, then?" Said Ron._

"Hermione," _said Fred promptly, without a trace of embarrassment._

" _What?" Said Ron, taken aback. "You've already asked her?"_

" _Good point, said Fred. He turned his head and grinned lopsidedly across_ the table. " _Want to come to the ball with me?"_

Hermione _gave Fred an appraising sort of look._

" _All right then."_

Ron _let out a sputter of indignation._

* * *

Hermione sat in the common room with her Ancient Runes text and notes spread out in front of her, the fire long ago burned low and the other students having trickled off to bed. Chewing the tip of her quill, she contemplated the translation in front of her, triple-checking for any errors. The sound of the Fat Lady's portrait opening broke her concentration, followed by the unmistakable sounds of Fred, George, and Lee returning from unknown late night mischief. Weighing her options, Hermione screwed her courage to the sticking place and elected to take advantage of this opportunity.

Lifting her chin, Hermione made eye contact with Fred, and crooked her finger in the "come here" signal. All three boys reluctantly moved in her direction, relief crossing George and Lee's expressions when she shook her head at the two of them and jerked it towards the staircase, indicating they could take their leave. The other two made their escape to the staircase leading to their dorm leaving Fred lingering apprehensively. Hermione gestured for Fred to sit, and took a deep breath, nerves jangling strangely.

"You only asked me to the ball to wind Ron up, correct?"

A dull flush colored Fred's neck.

"It's perfectly alright," Hermione laughed hollowly, "I wasn't planning to hold you to it." Mission accomplished, Hermione picked her quill back up, preparing to dive back into the runes, ignoring the disappointed feeling she didn't quite understand.

"Er," Fred said eloquently, rubbing the back of his neck embarrassedly, "I. You see." Hermione returned her attention to him, and watched him stammer under her gaze.

"No," he confessed, "You see. I mean, I thought. Well." Hermione felt a strange surge of hopefulness rise in her as Fred's flush rose higher. Fred sighed and determinedly fixed his gaze on a spot just over her left shoulder. "See, George always fancied the giggly sort. Sweet little things, usually dim, yeah?" Hermione wondered at the change of topic but made no move to interrupt, merely raising her eyebrows encouragingly. Fred began to speak faster, as if he felt that if he didn't say it all in one breath, he'd never say it at all. Hermione puzzled momentarily over what could cause the normally confident Fred to seem so nervous.

"Me though, I always fancied the kind of girl who wasn't afraid to go toe to toe with a bloke. Feisty. Opinionated. Bossy, whatever word you want to use. And when it happened that my baby brother befriended a bird who was not only that but brilliant, kind and beautiful to boot? Well…" Fred trailed off nervously. Hermione opened her mouth to respond, although what that response might be escaped her. Her instincts screamed that this was the set up to some prank, but looking at his face, seeing the uncertainty there, she wondered if maybe there was truth behind his words. Before she could speak, Fred cut her off.

"Look, I know everyone says you're just waiting for Ronnie to pull his thumb out of his arse…"

"Fred!" Hermione chastised weakly, her heart not truly behind it.

"But, I dunno," he continued without pause, "Maybe you're sick of waiting for him to notice what other blokes saw already. Maybe you'd be willing to give someone else a chance?" He finally met her eyes hesitantly. She studied him briefly and made up her mind.

"All right then." She replied, packing up her schoolwork. Fred's jaw dropped, he gazed at her, stunned, the whole while as she organized her notes, slipped them into the text, and stood, work in hand.

"...What?"

"I said, all right then." She leaned forward, ghosted a feather light kiss on his jaw, and walked up the stairs to her dorm; leaving Fred gawping behind.

 **A/N:** Italics are from GOF. But you're not new, you knew that.


	3. The Princess Bride

Fred Weasley groaned mentally as the slender witch leaned over the cauldron on the counter in the back room of his shop. Ever since his near death experience at the end of the Second Wizarding War over three years prior, he and Hermione Granger had been engaged in a bizarre sort of dance. Each and every time he convinced himself her feelings towards him were merely fraternal, she did something like this and knocked him through a loop again.

Having recently completed her Transfiguration mastery, Hermione had accepted a position as the new Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts. Until term began three months from now, she had offered to help out in the shop, perfecting some new products. What Fred had not expected was what Hermione would wear while doing so. Instead of the robes he was accustomed to seeing her in, Hermione wore some outfit she claimed all the muggle girls were wearing these days. Hermione wore a dark green vest decorated with some muggle cartoon character, small enough that Fred wondered idly if she had had it since primary school, which left vast swathes of creamy pale skin exposed above her denim trousers, which in turn dipped low below her hip bones displaying her slender abdomen to it's best advantage Fred's mouth grew dry as he wondered if the exposed skin was a soft as he imagined. His eyes glazed over as his thoughts filled with imaginings of slipping behind, sliding his hands across that smooth skin and across the exposed hip bones, of smelling that incredible hair and pressing needy kisses along her long neck, distracting her from the simmering cauldron in front of her.

"...dropper of murtlap essence? Fred? Now, please!"

"Guh?" Fred replied intelligently

"If you don't hand me that dropper of murtlap essence right now, the entire potion will be rui-" she cut off as a cloud of purple smoke burst from the cauldron, enveloping her and spreading rapidly through the room.

Abruptly Fred was rolling down a large hill, crying "Assssss yooooooooooouuuuuu wiiiiiiish!" and wondering why he was suddenly dressed in a black silk Renaissance style shirt and matching mask. He crashed to a stop at the bottom and heard Hermione's voice far above.

"My sweet Fredrick, what have I done?" She cried, followed by the thump, thump, thump, of her body following. Fortunately for Hermione, she was cushioned by Fred at the end of her rapid journey.

"Why didn't you wait for me?" Fred heard himself ask.

"Well, you were dead."

"Death cannot stop True Love. All it can do is delay it for a while." Before Fred could wonder at his response, Hermione's lips were on his, kissing frantically. One hand tangled in her long hair, the other circling her back, feeling the texture of her red linen gown, he responded enthusiastically. A lifetime or a millisecond later, Fred wasn't entirely sure which, he opened his eyes to find himself on his back on the floor of the lab, with a fist full of green cotton in one hand, and a cloud of wild brunette curls in the other, and Hermione lying on top of him, lips swollen and eyes sparkling mischievously.

"Well, I can see I have a great deal of research on the effects of essence of murtlap in Patented Daydream Charms to complete this summer. I wonder where I could find a partner to assist me in that endeavor." And to Fred's shock and awe, the pert little witch winked, jumped up, and sauntered back to her cauldron with a decided sway in her hips.

 **A/N** Things you recognize on loan from William Goldman. But you knew that too.


	4. Tomes and Turkey

Hermione woke with a start, lifting her head groggily off the dusty venerable codex she had been inadvertently using as a pillow. She blinked confusedly as she noticed a sandwich next to the tome. A sandwich that had definitely not been there prior to her unintentional catnap. She turned her neck slowly, working the stiffness out and was surprised to find she had company. Very few students ventured to this distant corner of the library, the section containing texts on Wizarding laws dating back to Fulbert the Fearful. Earlier that day, Hermione had been thrilled to find an unexpunged edition of the Domesday Book containing property records from the establishment of Diagon Alley, and had set that aside to peruse on a later study break.

Hermione eyed the young man sharing her table with a measure of suspicion. While Fred Weasley was not quite the last person she would expect to find in this isolated corner of Hogwarts' library, he was close to it. Fred merely turned the page in the text he was reviewing and rubbed his nose.

"Eat your sandwich," he spoke finally, eyes continuing to scan the page.

Hermione turned her suspicious gaze to the sandwich. The turkey on wheat seemed innocuous, but with Fred, she thought that unlikely.

"I didn't do anything to it," he added, "If I were going to prank you, I'd want an audience." Hermione made a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat.

"You missed dinner," he continued, eyes still on the text. "For the past three nights. What's so important that you can't take the time out to eat?"

"What's so important that you actually braved the library?" she countered smartly.

"Trouble with the antidote to our Coughing Chews," he responded, his eyes still on the page, "It stops the coughing, but turns them green."

"That'll be the doxie eggs," Hermione said, "try Lethifold perspiration. It should counteract the color issue as well as reduce the amount of sugar necessary in the chew, due to its sweet aftertaste." Fred flipped pages until he came to the section he sought and beamed at her.

"Of course! You're brilliant. Well. Obviously. I mean, you knew that already. And I knew that already. But, that'll be just the thing. It even fixes the problem with the extra sugar affecting the texture of the antidote, so this will be loads better!"

"Why didn't you ask me in the first place, rather than spend hours researching?"

"Just because my brother and Harry view you as their own personal walking encyclopedia doesn't mean we all do, Hermione," he replied, rolling his eyes, "Some of us do our own work. Just don't publicize that. I've got a reputation to uphold," he said loftily. Hermione laughed and felt a small smile lingering on her face as she returned to her book with a funny little feeling blossoming in her chest.

"You never did answer my question. Or eat your sandwich." Hermione glanced back up, surprised that he seemed inclined to stay put, even after receiving the information he needed.

"Looking up the legality of that quill of Umbridge's" she replied sourly. "It can't be legal to use something like that! In a school! On minors!" At Fred's grimace, she narrowed her eyes. "Give me your hand," she demanded. He reached out his right hand. "Your other one. I know you're left handed."

Reluctantly he reached out his left hand. Hermione breathed in sharply at the sight of the angry markings covering the back of his hand. It appeared that, unlike Harry, Fred had been forced to write different statements over the course of what were clearly many detentions. Hermione carefully took his hand, rubbing her thumb gently over one of the few sections of unmarked skin as she opened her bag with her other hand to retrieve the vial of murtlap essence and the small bowl she had taken to carrying with her. Scooting her chair closer to him, she placed the bowl on the table and poured the soothing liquid in, then eased his hand into the bowl. Fred smiled gratefully at her as the solution worked it's magic.

"Now eat your sandwich," he urged. Hermione conceded and took a bite. She immediately turned to him, shocked. "It's turkey and swiss on wheat with lettuce and spicy mustard. That's your favorite right?" She nodded, shocked, as she continued to chew.

She was surprised to note his cheeks turn pink as she swallowed and responded, "Did you even put the mustard between the lettuce and cheese instead of on the bread?"

"Well, you don't like it when the bread gets soggy, yeah?" He offered, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. The warm feeling in Hermione's chest grew and expanded as he reached forward and picked up a book off her stack, opened it to the index, and began running a finger down the list, murmuring under his breath as his eyes scanned the text. "Use of cursed objects for corporal punishment? Sounds promising." His eyes met hers and she felt a slightly foolish grin blossom on her face, matching the one growing on his. Hermione took another bite of her sandwich and returned to her own book, enjoying the giddyhappy sensation in her stomach.


	5. Nigel and Barbie

**A/N:** Follows Chapter 1- Chocolate Cake

Hours after the Quidditch game wrapped up, and after Molly and Hermione had dealt with the three nosebleeds, one broken nose, broken arm, sprained ankle, and too many bruises to count; Hermione was settled in on a bench in the back garden of the Burrow, cup of tea in hand, savouring its flavor as well as the peace, quiet, and crisp night air. Again she felt more than heard a presence behind her on the path from the back door of the house.

"You never really answered my question," he commented, "I didn't realize until later, but you couldn't actually see me when you recognized me."

"Mmmmhh." Hermione replied noncomittally.

"Come on, Hermia," he pleaded, hovering next to the bench.

"That one's new," she responded.

"Thought you might hate a nickname less if it came from Shakespeare too." he offered. "Fits too, you are little and fierce." Hermione made another noncommittal noise in her throat, sipped her tea, and gestured to offer the seat next to her. He sat, but didn't relax. She let him stew a moment before speaking.

"It's your energy." She replied cryptically.

"Pardon?"

"George has always been more relaxed around me. You though? You try hard to seem relaxed, but you never are. For the longest time, I thought you hated me."

"I could never hate you, Hermia."

She smiled softly. "I know that now, but when I was younger…" she shrugged. "Do you remember the summer I gave you and George that book on muggle pranks?"

"And we spent the rest of the holiday tormenting you and Ginny."

"Do you remember the day George put the water bucket over the door?"

"Vividly."

"Well, that was the day I realized you didn't hate me." She sipped her tea and glanced at him raising her eyebrow. "You don't have to be so embarrassed. I've kept your secret all this time, and haven't even teased you about it. Much."

"Ah. Well. Yes." he said uncomfortably. "You still dating that bloke from the Ministry, Nigel?" He changed the subject abruptly. Hermione laughed in response.

"Uh, Merlin no! What a bore." She chuckled. "What about you? Still seeing Barbie?" She asked, drawing the girl's name out mockingly.

"First, her name was Barbara. And second, that's a hard no. Last time I let George set me up with a girl." He responded, shaking his head ruefully.

"You always say that. Dollars to dougnuts, two weeks from now, you find yourself on another double date with George, Steffi, and another bimbo. Probably named Candi."

"And she dots the I with a heart." Fred added, laughing. "Dollars to doughnuts?"

"Muggle term."

"Ah." The silence stretched out, only slightly uncomfortably.

"What a pair we make," Fred ventured after a few moments, "Me, pining for years after a girl so far out of my league...and you. You still waiting for Ronnie to wake up?" Hermione blinked at him, stunned.

"Out of your league? What? And Ron? What are you on about? You think RON and...I?" She shook her head and laughed. "Firstly, Ron. Oh, no. He and I kissed once, did you know that?" Fred shook his head, mutely. "It was like kissing Harry. Or, rather how I'd imagine kissing Harry would be. Not that I've ever kissed Harry. Or imagined kissing Harry, for that matter." she laughed. "I think Ron and I both always thought as kids that we'd end up together, but when the moment arrived? Well, we have an unspoken agreement to never speak of it again." Fred's expression grew more stunned as she spoke.

"And you! Who are you pining over?" Hermione questioned. Fred blinked. "And what girl could possibly be out of _your_ league? If she can't recognize how charming, handsome, funny, kind, and successful you are, then she can't possibly deserve you." Hermione finished, crossing her arms determinedly in front of her, glaring at the unknown female.

Fred finally found words. "But, I thought you knew. You _said_ you knew. You know _everything_."

"I said I knew? What?"

"The water bucket!" Fred sputtered.

"The water bucket? But. That. I knew you were attracted to me, but embarrassed about it! What could that possibly have to do with _this_?"

"Everything!" Fred burst out. "Of course I was embarrassed! I thought you were Ronnie's girl! What kind of bloke falls for his own brother's girl?" Fred shook his head "I thought you knew everything all this time. That you knew all along, but just...preferred Ron." he finished quietly.

"All this time," Hermione said softly, "I've thought you were embarrassed just because you felt attraction towards the plain-jane, bossy, bookworm."

"There's nothing plain about you." Fred replied, almost too softly for her to hear, pressing his forehead against hers, "And bossy bookworm is one of the things I love most about you."

"Your mother is going to be thrilled," Hermione cautioned jokingly. "She'll probably start planning a wedding tonight."

"Okay by me." Fred murmured. And kissed her softly as he finally relaxed.


End file.
